The strangeness of faces

I started reading Lila, by Marilynne Robinson, on Saturday night (which was bad, as before I knew it it was 11.30 pm, and I had many places to be on Sunday). So much that could be quoted, but I liked this little section, from Lila’s bewildered musing on reading of the likenesses of the faces in Ezekial 1:10.

But it made as much sense as anything else. No sense at all. If you think about a human face, it can be something you don’t want to look at, so sad or so hard or so kind. It can be something you want to hide, because it pretty well shows where you’ve been and what you can expect. And anybody at all can see it, but you can’t. It just floats there in front of you. It might as well be your soul, for all you can do to protect it. What isn’t strange, when you think about it.

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